


Lessons in Ornithological Communication

by mrs_d



Category: due South
Genre: Hockey, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Trash Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19273978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: “You can do this,” Ray encouraged him. “I believe in you, Fraser. Just look me in the eye and tell me how much you hate the Chicago Blackhawks.”





	Lessons in Ornithological Communication

**Author's Note:**

> WIPs continue to vex me, so I'm living in Denial, aka the land of oneshots.
> 
> This was inspired by the Jimmy Kimmel segment in which he tries to get Raptors fans to trash talk the Golden State Warriors, except that I changed it from basketball to hockey. 
> 
> Bonus points if you get the title.

Ray crossed his arms in front of his chest and fixed Benton with a look that he knew all too well — though, usually, it was directed towards suspects and not himself.

“Say it,” he said.

Benton resisted the urge to squirm. There was a reason Ray did so well in the interrogation room. “I’d really rather not,” he tried.

“Say it!” Ray insisted.

“Why?” Benton had to ask.

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s impolite,” Benton pointed out, knowing that it would get a rise out of his partner.

Sure enough, Ray rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Fraser, give it up with the politeness thing. It’s just me here, you don’t need to be Mr. Super Mountie.”

“It only takes an extra second—”

“And besides, I’ve seen you watch hockey,” Ray overrode him. “Hell, I’ve seen you _play_ hockey, and there ain’t nothing polite about a Canadian and hockey.”

“That’s not entirely true, Ray,” Benton began. “Sportsmanship is an ancient concept, and hockey in particular—”

“Spare me the history lesson, Fraser,” Ray cut him off. “My point is that you don’t know how to trash talk, and it’s high time we fixed that. Now tell me my team sucks.”

Benton didn’t fight it this time. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “Ray, I—”

“You can do this,” Ray encouraged him. He sank down beside him and put his hand on Benton’s knee in a familiar and welcome display of tactile affection. “I believe in you, Fraser. Just look me in the eye and tell me how much you hate the Chicago Blackhawks.”

“All right.” Benton licked his bottom lip, thinking. “The Chicago Blackhawks,” he began after a moment, “have many good players, and—”

 _“That’s_ your trash talk?”

“You interrupted me,” Benton protested. “I was building to something.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender. “My apologies. Please, go ahead.”

“Thank you kindly,” Benton said, because he could. “As I was saying, the Blackhawks have good players, and their play-off experience is more or less on par with Edmonton’s.”

Ray was looking puzzled now. “Uh huh... And?”

“And—” Benton felt flustered, until the answer came to him. “I mean— _but_ I hope they don’t win this evening. Or this series. Or any series, in fact, up to and including the Stanley Cup final,” he concluded triumphantly.

Ray blinked. He leaned back a little. “Wow,” he said finally. “Wow, Fraser, that is... that was harsh.”

Benton couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” said Ray with a nod. “I’m... I’m wounded, Fraser, really. Wow.”

Benton felt uncertain and guilty. Had he taken it too far? “I didn’t mean to upset you, Ray,” he said earnestly. “I only meant that... well, the Blackhawks are a fine team, but when it comes to the Stanley Cup—”

Ray was giving him a small smile. “Yeah, I know. You like it when a Canadian team wins.”

Benton ducked his head, bashfully patriotic. “I do. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Ray. Benton chanced a look up and saw that Ray was grinning. No hurt feelings, then, that was good. Then—

“Better than the World Series,” Ray added.

Benton tsked. “Now, Ray—”

Ray burst out laughing. “I’m just teasing you, Fraser, jeez,” he said, shoving at Benton’s knee. “See, that’s trash talk. Real trash talk, not whatever you were just doing.”

“Ah.” Benton chuckled. “Well, I didn’t want to be rude, Ray.”

“That’s the whole point,” Ray told him. “Now, come on, your turn. Tell me my team sucks balls and they’ll never win anything and nobody likes them.”

Benton raised his eyebrows. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ray replied with a shrug. “But it’s effective.”

“I suppose,” Benton had to agree. “Oh, it’s starting,” he said a second later, when he realized that the TV screen before them had changed from the pre-game announcers to an image of the ice. He rose to adjust the volume, so he could hear the iconic theme song.

“Saved by the music,” Ray muttered, but he grabbed a handful of chips from the bowl on the table and crunched them happily.

“I do hope Edmonton succeeds tonight,” said Benton, once the anthems were sung and the puck dropped.

“Me too,” Ray agreed, which surprised Benton into turning his head. “What?” Ray asked. “Speaking as an honorary Canadian, I’d love to see the Oilers bring the Cup home.”

Something warm unfurled in Benton’s chest at hearing Ray say the word _home_ in regard to Canada, and he leaned into Ray’s space. Ray opened his arms and let Benton in, nuzzling the back of his neck tenderly.

“I’d be happy with any Canadian team, really,” Ray added after a moment. Then his motion stopped. “Not the Leafs,” he clarified. “Never the Leafs.”

Benton hummed in agreement. He drew in a breath and said those three little words he knew Ray was dying to hear.

“The Leafs suck.”


End file.
